


The Day it Snowed in ‘Nam

by Bella119



Category: The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Special, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-02 19:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella119/pseuds/Bella119
Summary: ‘Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today,’ Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnam: Lotus in a Sea of Fire.Will Christmas bring the A-Team peace?Inspired by the real account of a pilot who served during the conflict in Vietnam.





	1. The Village

**Author's Note:**

> Hi thanks for clicking on my new story. Pretty Boy is still underway but this is a little extra Christmas fic. It’s all set in ‘Nam and slots into my Early Day’s series but I promise it is a stand alone story if you haven’t read any of the other books. I’ve been brewing this short story since the summer just waiting for December so I could publish it. Parts of the story are based on the real account of a pilot in Vietnam. When I heard his story it was so touching I wanted more people to hear about it, so our favorite team took on the dramatization of ‘The Day it Snowed in Vietnam.’ Please let me know what you think and Merry Christmas :-D

**The Village**

**December 1970**

The rich golden nectar swirled with the tilting of the glass in his hand. Mismatched lamps reflected tepid light through the liquid as he admired the subtle changes in color. His body was so weary he could just close his eyes and go to sleep sat on the bar stool. The hypnotising effect of the amber hues were drawing his heavy eyelids down.

“Kid, you’re dead on your feet.”

Face dragged his protesting eyelids open and looked up at Hannibal who’d appeared next to him.

“We’ve been in the field over ninety six hours. Go get some rack time,” the older man said, placing his hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “C’mon, Face, if you don’t you’ll crash here.”

Wincing at the pain radiating from his strained abdominal muscles Face turned to listlessly gaze around the officers mess, taking in the clusters of soldiers in varying stages of inebriation, with one ominous exception. A crude pallet-made table stood deserted near the door. LT Seadal’s unit hadn’t returned from the DMZ. Morbid tradition dictated the team’s table would remain unoccupied for the rest of the week as a temporary memorial to the young men who would never be going home.

“If I try, I’ll be asleep dreaming with my eyes wide open,” Face explained quietly. He wasn’t ready to let the demon control him, not yet. He didn’t want to see the haunting images unconsciousness would bring, his defences weakening and forcing him to relive the horror.

Hannibal said nothing, he released his firm grip and took a stool next to him. A nod and raised finger brought the bartender with another glass of whiskey.

“It was my anniversary a couple of weeks ago.” Face lifted his own glass. “One year in this hell hole.” He went to chuckle but stopped when his stomach muscles fought back.

“Face, you’ve done your tour and more. I can revoke your indefinite status, just say the word.” Hannibal frowned at him. “You’re ready to go home, kid.”

Ignoring the pain, a breath of laughter escaped the young Lieutenant. “What fucking home?” Return to LA with no more than the clothes on his back? Kids abandoned on the steps of an orphanage didn’t have homes. He raised an eyebrow at his CO. “Like it or not this is my home.” And he meant it, over the last year he’d found a place in life. The team were his family and he’d walk through fire to remain shoulder to shoulder with them. Hell, he already had many times over.

Seemingly accepting his veiled request to stay, Hannibal raised his own glass and touched the side of Face’s. “Here’s to the next twelve months then.”

Face took a swig, relishing the burn of the liquor. Idly, he wondered if it would revive that cold dark place which had died inside of him. He’d known those people, he’d played with the children. Damn, he’d helped deliver one of them. A small smile graced his lips. Okay, helped may be embellishing a little, more he ran about in a panic as Doc and Hannibal assisted bringing the new life into the world. And what a fucking fucked up world it was.

“We need to tell Brenner,” Face said, not looking up from his glass. Doc had gone home to his girl but he loved that village...they’d all loved the village. In the futility of war, MEDCAP delivered more than medical aid to the Montagnards, it gave the team a soul, a face to the meaningless bloody conflict. Now the very people they’d been fighting to liberate were dead after the Viet Cong unleashed a merciless torrent of destruction.

Face grimaced, muscles screaming at the sudden movement. He vividly recalled the sickly sweet smell of charred flesh that greeted their arrival. A lump formed in his throat and was accompanied by his eyes filling. He closed them to stop the tears from escaping. It didn’t help. His mind replayed the film reel of the hours spent digging graves. For as long as he walked this earth the image of those tiny graves would haunt him.

Hannibal’s order to find the bastards who annihilated a whole village was leapt on with enthusiasm. They wouldn’t leave until revenge had been delivered. The unit tracked and searched, hardly breaking to rest, but four days was not enough. Murdock offered to drop more supplies so they could stay, but Hannibal called it. As much as Face wanted to continue he knew the team were on their knees and Murdock couldn’t keep up the hours of recon flights. They had to stop before they made a mistake. A fatal mistake.

Finishing his whiskey, Hannibal stood up. “I wrote to Doc before I came to find you.” He gently pried Face’s fingers from his empty glass, placing it on the bar. “C’mon, I’ll walk with you back to the hooch.”

Face got to his feet stiffly. “I’ll start checking hospitals and refugee camps for Binh first thing.” He needed to know for sure the baby, who’d become the Alpha team’s unofficial mascot, was really dead. The irony she carried the name ‘peaceful’ caused his gut to twist, adding to the discomfort of his aching body.

“Thanks, kid,” Hannibal said quietly, an unlit cigar hanging limply from his calloused hand.

* * *

Face wasn’t surprised to find Murdock in the hooch. He’d unofficially moved in when Ray Brenner went home. The pilot’s footlocker sat at the end of the cot demonstrating Murdock’s wish it was a more permanent arrangement. Face knew his buddy preferred the company of his teammates over his designated Air Force quarters, he made a mental note to get the paperwork squared away so Murdock could stay in their hooch.

Murdock mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, still fully clothed, only his boots had been removed.

BA glanced up from reading a letter, sat on his own cot. “The fool don't even shut up in his sleep.”

“The day he’s quiet is the day I’m worried,” Hannibal replied, his head down as he unlaced his boots, heavy sludge clung to the leather. The nearly constant rain had turned all the paths on the FOB into a treacherous sea of mud, clinging to every soldier’s boots.

Forgetting his own fear of going to sleep, Face was concerned about his buddy. “How is he?” he asked BA. Since the camps Murdock’s eccentric personality had become, well, more eccentric. He couldn’t remember the last time the pilot hadn’t had deep purple coloring under his eyes, sleep evading his sensitive friend more often than not.

Murdock had seen the devastation at the village. Naively they’d been in a jovial mood as he landed a couple of klicks away, all the men looking forward to a day working with the Yards’ families. Murdock even made a crude sock puppet, planning on distracting the children receiving shots. Face felt the painful lump in his throat again and blinked rapidly. Sockie, the hand puppet, had been annoying BA. Then the morbid stench hit them and Sockie went totally silent as they carefully approached. No training, no previous experience could have prepared them for what they found.

“Fool’s been shouting out more than normal, but he’s stayed calm,” BA replied honestly, the grimace he wore was one of total defeat.

Face closed his eyes with a small sigh, his abdominals complaining at the influx of air. If he didn’t want to face his nightmares tonight he couldn’t imagine the pain of Murdock’s dreams. “Hannibal, should we do watches?”

Hannibal glanced over from folding his fatigues. He remained quiet looking at the sleeping pilot, before turning to Face. “No, he’s out for the count. I’m sure he’ll wake us soon enough if that changes.”

With no more excuses Face slowly undressed and crawled into his cot. He prayed tonight his mind would be as exhausted as his body. He needed real rest and his aching muscles couldn’t cope with thrashing around in his own terrors.

Betsy, he’d think of Betsy, the pretty nurse always had a smile for him, and she looked so cute blushing whenever he winked back. With the soothing picture of her smile he let sleep finally engulf him.

* * *

_ DMZ: demilitarised zone _

_ Binh: Vietnamese girl’s name meaning peaceful  _

_ MEDCAP: medical civil assistance program _

_ FOB: Forward Operating Base _

_ Klicks: kilometres  _

_ Doc: moniker of Ray Brenner, team medic. He’s not a doctor but medics were often called Band Aid or Doc in ‘Nam _

_ Yards: military slang for Montagnards, the indigenous peoples of the Central Highlands of Vietnam. The term Montagnard means "people of the mountain" in French. _


	2. The Search

**The Search**

“Murdock, you’re not helping!” Face briskly pulled the paperwork from the pilot’s hand. Glancing at it, he returned the papers to the correct pile.

“C’mon, Faceman, tell me what I can do.” Murdock gazed at him with those damn kicked puppy dog eyes.

He understood why Murdock was desperate to keep busy. None of them wanted the time to think. Thinking led to guilt. He’d already beaten himself up over the idea it was the Alpha team’s involvement which had put the village on the VC’s radar. If they hadn’t been ‘helping’, their friends might not have suffered.

He really could do with Murdock’s skills, though Face was hesitant to ask. The pilot was fluent in Vietnamese, for him the telephone conversations searching for Binh would be simple. At best Face’s linguistic skills were passable in the field but he was coming up short trying to explain to administrators what he was doing. The useless, Army issue, translation manual sat well thumbed in front of him.

But looking at the pain still radiating in Murdock’s eyes he didn’t know if his buddy would cope. Face had mentally prepared himself to have Binh’s death confirmed, but Murdock was ever the optimist. His crazy buddy saw beauty in the most mundane places. He could drag a chuckle from an exhausted soldier with a daft impersonation or have you smiling at a glorious sunset while ordinance exploded loudly in the jungle behind you. 

Not only had Murdock gotten Face through those early days in country he’d also given him the will to keep fighting, the will to live, when they were prisoners in the camps. He owed the tall, lanky man his life in more ways than one. All Face wanted to do was protect him. Hell, he owed him that much.

His reverie was broken by a loud crash. He reacted on instinct, reaching for his sidearm and jumping to his feet. Seeing Murdock scrabbling around on the floor, Face rolled his eyes and replaced the gun.

“Darn paperclips, they’re real pretty, but the critters get everywhere,” Murdock explained, presenting a handful of the described items while he kneeled on the floor.

Face sighed, crouching down to join him, collecting up the various supplies Murdock had knocked off a shelf in the office he’d commandeered for the day.

“I don’t have time for this,” Face said, wincing slightly as he stood up with a box of staples, his stomach muscles feeling even more tender after his relative inactivity for the last few hours. It was the first day in nearly a week Face hadn’t had to dig graves or careen through the jungle. Today the pain just added to his frustration. “I’m only halfway through the hospital list and this is a waste of space.” He slammed the translation manual shut as he passed the desk while returning the staples to the shelf. A thought struck him and he stopped and turned back to his buddy. “Murdock, how the hell did you get everything to fall so far?” Face couldn’t help laughing, realizing the debris was on the opposite side of the office from the shelf it had started on.

“It’s a skill I didn’t know I had, Faceman. Hey, when we find ‘em bastards, do ya think Hannibal will let me throw the pineapples?” Murdock gave him a lopsided grin but his eyes betrayed his lack of humour.

“Let’s focus on tracking down survivors first,” Face suggested. He’d seen that look before, a dark beast would creep into Murdock and wrap its hands around his soul. In that frame of mind the pilot was goddamn dangerous. Face needed to bring him back, and quickly, fearing one day the darkness would take over and suffocate his best friend.

“Okay, Faceman,” Murdock replied deceptively calmly, but Face knew him too well to be taken in by the facade.

He needed to engage the pilot and get his focus on another task. Reluctantly Face knew he had to let him help. “Bud, I could really use some coffee.” He chuckled. “And Advil. Can you get us some, then do a bit of translation? We’ll get through the list faster if we work together.”

Face relaxed into a warm smile, watching Murdock visibly brighten. 

“Sure thing, LT.” Murdock snapped off a crooked salute and bounced out of the office. 

* * *

_ Christmas Eve _

Every step was treacherous as Face carefully made his way across camp. He slid as much as walked on the mud, his fatigues soaked through under the persistent rain. The air was filled with an unpleasant but familiar stench of diesel and rotting foliage. Inside a trash bag, he clutched the last few items he had to deliver, it was important they stayed dry - they were Christmas goodies. For a modest commission, Face had acquired extra booze and cigarettes plus a box of homemade cookies. Once he’d handed them over he would stop for some downtime.

He glanced at his watch, seventeen hundred. He could drop off the supplies, collect his profit and still meet Hannibal in time. The FOB was bursting at the seams with soldiers, men loudly shouting to each other as Face made his way through the base. The ceasefire called for Christmas meant anyone who could come in from the field had. Tonight’s poker game in the mess would be very lucrative, which of course is why Hannibal had arranged it.

“Faceman! Face, I’ve found ‘em.” Murdock’s Texan drawl stopped him in his tracks.

He turned to see Murdock skidding and stumbling towards him, the pilot’s long legs a hindrance more than a help on the slick path. He’d left Murdock making the last few follow up calls, after five days of dead ends and false leads Face had given up. Now the wet Captain radiated infectious joy despite his wild non-regulation hair being plastered to his head in the dismal weather. Face couldn’t help grinning as a seed of hope grew.

“Where? Are you sure?” Face fired back, reaching out a hand to brace himself as Murdock careened into him.

“It’s a small hospital about twenty miles southeast of the village.” Murdock regained his balance, looking at him flushed despite the rain which brought little relief from the oppressive heat. “An ARVA recon unit picked up a woman and baby matching their description.”

Quickly processing the information, or lack thereof, Face asked hesitantly, “Is Laken too badly hurt to tell them it’s her?” He knew Binh’s mother would’ve done anything to keep her baby safe even if it cost her her own life.

“The nurse who called said the mom isn’t physically injured.” Murdock swiped the rain away from his forehead and frowned before continuing. “She hasn’t spoken since the soldiers got her to the hospital.”

“Oh.” Face couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. How many women and babies turned up, displaced by this cruel war? Too many. The odds that it was them...were slim to none.

“We gotta check.” Murdock’s cheeks puffed out with determination. “I gotta check.”

“Okay, I’ll see who’s on the ground and get them to go visit, get a photo or at least a detailed description,” Face replied.

“No, Faceman, I need to see with my own eyes. Can you get me a bird?”

“Not this close to nightfall. Anyways, they’ll all be out picking up teams,” he explained soothingly, seeing anger flash in his buddy’s eyes. “Tomorrow’s out, so the next day?”

“I can fly at first light. I’m gonna go tomorrow,” Murdock said forcefully. “It’s not just you who can scam stuff. I’ll get a bird and go by myself.”

Face rolled his eyes, realizing his plan to get blind drunk for Christmas Day was no longer happening. His friend might be crazy but he was only demanding what Face also wanted to know. “Let’s go speak to the Colonel,” he said with a small smile. He’d scam a chopper and Hannibal would come up with a plan. Hell, if it was true it’d be the best fucking Christmas present the team could have.

Murdock threw an arm over Face’s shoulders enthusiastically, nearly causing them both to topple over on the oil slick-like ground. “Sure thing, Muchacho.”

* * *

The first thing Face noticed on entering the officers mess was the unnatural quiet. All eyes were focused on the card game in the center of the room.

Hannibal sat at a large table surrounded by soldiers, his cards face down with only a small pile of money left in front of him. One other player remained in the game. Ginger, sitting opposite the colonel, pushed some bills forward, calling the bet. The red haired door gunner had a look of pure delight as he flipped his hand over, displaying a flush.

Theatrically, Hannibal sighed and showed his losing hand.

“Too easy, Colonel, you’re making this too easy,” Ginger crowed, dragging the pot towards him.

Face tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his fatigues, it was all part of a well rehearsed plan. Hannibal was softening up the other players, letting them win while awaiting Face’s arrival, at that point they’d work as a silent tag team to fleece the other guys. The communication system they had developed in the field to warn of danger would be seamlessly adapted to improve their odds. Face had run the scam with Hannibal many times, they’d share hidden signals to divulge the quality of their respective hands and place bets accordingly. Face grimaced knowing the colonel needed to start planning and wasn’t going to win his money back this evening.

A few of the other soldiers were laughing at Hannibal’s losing streak. Seeing the man known for winning in all aspects of life crashing so dramatically was causing much amusement. Most had obviously consumed a fair amount of drink despite how early it was, everyone already winding down for Christmas.

“Ah, Face, care to join us?” Hannibal asked casually, turning to look at him, still running on the well rehearsed script.

Face quickly flicked his eyes over to Murdock and back to Hannibal.

The older man read it straight away. “Gentlemen,” he said addressing the table. “I’ll sit this hand out, I have some business to address.” He started to rise from his seat.

Throughout, Murdock had been fidgeting next to Face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hopped from foot to foot, puffing his cheeks out and huffing with unspent frustration. Finally unable to contain himself any longer he took a large stride towards Hannibal. ‘I’ve found ‘em. Binh’s alive.”

Hannibal dropped all pretence and sat heavily on the seat, a giant smile slapped across his face.

In a rush Murdock continued. “Laken, she can’t speak, but her and Binh are okay. Or I think they are. I don’t know, they don’t know, but I’m sure. I got a gut feeling. We gotta go check. We gotta go-“ Face put his hand on Murdock’s arm to stop his verbal diarrhea.

Every gaze in the mess was now focused on the overly excited, rambling pilot and motionless colonel.

Hannibal looked at Face and raised his eyebrows, silently requesting a full report.

“A young mom and her baby were picked up in the jungle. They’re unharmed but the woman is mute,” Face explained quietly. He heard breaths catch around the room. A lot of these guys knew about Binh. In the middle of a war, two green berets becoming midwives in itself was big news, many of them had wet the baby’s head even though they’d never met her. Men fervently clinging to the hope a new innocent life brought. They were also aware their unofficial symbol of peace had been wiped out.

“It’d be a fucking Christmas miracle if it’s them,” Ginger said, rubbing his hand over his eyes in disbelief.

“The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”

All eyes pivoted towards an unassuming Padre. Reverend Taylor stepped out of the corner. Face was more than a little surprised to see him, they’d met in Saigon not long after the camps. Face had sought his guidance while trying to deal with life after being a guest of the Viet Cong. He looked at his friend, furrowing his brow with confusion.

“Flew in today to minister sermons tomorrow,” the reverend explained. “Now we could be witnessing a true act of God.”

Murdock was bouncing. “Ooh! Ooh! We’re like the wise men gonna find Jesus.”

“More the shepherds,” Hannibal chuckled, pulling a cigar out of his fatigues. “Lieutenant, when do we ship out?”

Face tossed his zippo to the colonel. “Tomorrow, first light if I can work out a way.”

“We need gold, myrrh and frankincense. We can’t go on Christmas Day without gifts can we, Padre?” Murdock asked, rocking onto the balls of his feet.

Reverend Taylor laughed. “Captain, if you’ve found your angel, gifts are a wonderful idea.”

“The mom and baby are in a small hospital,” Face explained.

Taking a long drag on his cigar Hannibal looked thoughtful. “Can you source some med supplies...and maybe some food?”

Face grinned back, they’d seen the conditions at the local non-military clinics, anything he could get hold of would be helpful. The medical teams were often working without even the bare essentials, treating patients on hope, a wing and a prayer. “I’m sure I can get some short-dated stuff.”

“Do you need a door gunner?” Ginger asked.

“If you’re volunteering, Sergeant,” Hannibal replied nodding.

“I’ll come,” Poison, a senior crew chief, offered. “When do we report for duty, Sir?”

“Hang on guys,” Face said, nervously swiping a hand through his still wet hair. He was good but could he source a chopper on Christmas Day? “We haven’t got permission to go anywhere yet. The birds are all grounded for the ceasefire.”

“Not quite,” Reverend Taylor interjected. “There’s a macvee flight taking letters and gifts to the troops still in the field. Not sure who they’ve roped into doing it.”

Face looked at Hannibal, awaiting a barely perceptible confirmation nod. Seeing it, he smiled confidently. “I’ll fix it.”

“We’re gonna be like Santa,” Murdock virtually squealed with excitement.

“Let's start a collection.” Ginger pushed his winnings back towards Hannibal.

Instantly soldiers were rummaging in their fatigues adding to the pile, more offers soon filled the air.

“My girl sent me some candy, you can have it.”

“I’ve got some cookies.”

“Do ya think they’d want pens?”

“Boots?”

Face beamed at the generosity of his comrades. He glanced at Murdock who’d found an ammo can and was stuffing the money inside. He felt relief they’d stopped the devil possessing his best friend. Face really hoped it was going to be Laken and Binh, Murdock wouldn’t cope if it wasn’t. Damn, none of them would cope.

* * *

_ Pineapples, grenades _

_ ARVA, Army of the Republic of Vietnam; the South Vietnamese Regular Army. _


	3. The Day it ‘Snowed’ in Vietnam

**The Day it ‘Snowed’ in Vietnam**

”Hello, pretty lady," Face said, radiating pure charm at Betsy.

The young nurse jumped with surprise. The dressings she’d been putting away in the hospital supply closet tumbled to the ground.

“Lieu-Lieutenant Peck, sorry I didn’t know you were there.”

Face lavished the stuttering nurse with his most dazzling smile. “Let me help you, and please, call me Templeton.”

He gathered up the dropped packets, making sure his fingers lightly brushed the nurse’s trembling hand as he passed them over. He was rewarded with her cheeks flushing as Betsy struggled to meet his eyes.

“Thank you, Sir-um Templeton,” she managed, turning back to the shelf but not before he saw her cute smile.

“Betsy, I wanted to bring you a little Christmas gift,” he explained when she looked back at him. “I’ve got to go off base early tomorrow so I need to give it to you now.” He stepped a little closer than was correct etiquette and couldn’t help smiling again as the blush crept down her chest under her uniform.

“Oh, Templeton, you shouldn’t have. I haven’t gotten you anything.” She eagerly accepted the small brown paper-wrapped parcel he pulled out of his jacket.

“You’re smile is a gift in itself.” He let his finger tips linger against her longer than was necessary before releasing the parcel.

Still looking flushed, Betsy tore open the paper and gasped. “Oh wow, real chocolate. I’m watching my figure but a little treat couldn’t hurt.”

Face smirked, he sure as hell had been watching her figure, too.

Betsy stuffed the candy in her pocket before nervously pushing some hair away from her face that had escaped her tight regulation bun. “I thought there were no missions tomorrow. Why do you have to leave the base?”

“My Alpha team has offered to do the Christmas macvee milk run. Then we’re gonna do some aid work in a small hospital.” He wanted to remind her that he was an elite commando, adding in details of his selfless nature would seal the deal.

Success. She looked enraptured.

“I was hoping you may have some spare supplies I could take with me. Y’know, in the spirit of Christmas.” He delivered his killer smile.

He had to get BA to help carry the crates by the time Betsy had filled them to the brim. He joyously whistled ‘Good King Wenceslas’ while they relocated the generous donation of medical supplies to the flight line. He’d even arranged to take Betsy to Da Nang for dinner when they returned.

Leaving BA to assist Hannibal, who’d acquired a large horde from the kitchens, Face headed off to the laundry.

* * *

_ Christmas Day _

“Ya may be good, Faceman, but I think the Colonel still has the edge.”

Face stopped loading the chopper and followed the laughing pilot’s gaze. Hannibal casually strolled towards them, each arm slung around the waist of a young Donut Dolly.

Face smiled at the Red Cross volunteers, while giving a knowing look to Hannibal. He wondered if the two attractive girls had been planning to come on the mail run or if his CO had coerced them into it? The SRAO programme delivered candy, juice and smiles to the troops in the field, a touch of home was the slogan. He admired the donut dollies’ festive red and blue Christmas uniforms, the dash of color was a welcome addition to the drab greens and browns on the FOB.

“Maureen, Rachel, please meet  _ my _ team,” Hannibal chuckled, releasing the girls and helping them towards the Huey.

Face noted the crude way Hannibal had emphasised his seniority and ownership of the a-team. Murdock was wrong, he had the edge over their CO, Face prided himself on the art of seduction. He didn’t need to put the other men down to win a female’s affections. He’d let it pass, a kind of Christmas gift for the older man. Ever the gentleman, Face smiled at Rachel, catching both her hands and lifting her into the cargo hold.

“Thank you, LT Peck,” she said, her eyes scanning his chest for his name.

“He’s Faceman and I’m HM Murdock, captain of your carriage, fair maiden,” Murdock said hopping in after her and bowing while offering his hand.

Rachel gave a donut dolly trademark smile, warmly shaking his hand. Face mused how it was going to be a good day spending time with the girls. The chopper may be filled with testosterone as the team vied for attention but they so rarely got to even see the pretty women sent to boost morale, it’d be nice to have plenty of opportunities to assist the donut dollies with their mission.

The base was unnaturally quiet, no running choppers, shouts or rumble of machinery, even the usual buzz of radio chatter was silenced. Both sides relishing the ceasefire even if only for a day. This is what peace sounds like, Face thought wryly.

Poison was telling Ginger and Bazza, the peter pilot, about his wife planning a second Christmas for after he got home in a couple of weeks. He’d also be meeting his baby daughter for the first time. Everyone on the flight line was in a jubilant mood.

BA, the only exception, didn’t look impressed. He glared at Face, who grinned back. The bulky Sergeant scowled, reluctantly clambering up behind Maureen whom Face had just lifted in.

Face chuckled softly, watching BA check and double check that the crates were securely strapped in, then quickly attaching his harness to an internal fixing point. Despite an outwardly tough appearance, he knew the muscle man had grown more and more nervous about flying.

“Muchacho, ya look like you’re fixing for a ride at the fair,” Murdock laughed at BA.

“Be safer at the fair with no fool in control,” BA growled back.

Rachel sidled closer to Face to whisper in his ear, “Does Sergeant Baracus not like helicopters?”

He stopped laughing at BA’s discomfort and ran his hand through his hair remembering the cause. Since they’d crashed and been taken prisoners by the Viet Cong, BA had struggled with flying. “More not liking the pilot,” Face replied lightly, quickly schooling his expression to neutral. He wasn’t going to let the memories of the beatings and starvation ruin today. Today they had a mission to find Binh and deliver good cheer along the way.

Smiling warmly, Face beckoned Maureen over, then quietly explained his plan to the pretty girls.

* * *

Face realized Murdock was flying higher than normal. Despite the ceasefire, he expected his buddy to be extra careful, especially with the ladies on board. Face sat with Poison, his legs hanging out the open side of the chopper, both men scanning the jungle for any threats.

Maureen gasped, causing Face to glance over his shoulder. Her expression was positively glowing. “It-it looks like snow,” she said staring past him.

He looked back out to see what had grabbed her attention and also caught his breath. The early Christmas morning sun was slowly rising behind the mountains they headed towards. Long shadows were cast in the light and the rain had stopped, bringing the promise of a warm, clear day. A blanket of white mist sat in the valleys while the mountain tops stretched proudly towards the sun. Maureen was right, it did look like snow. A quick check of the other passengers assured Face that all of them were staring at the serenity outside. Even BA had cracked a small smile.

Damn, it was a beautiful country. He’d been here over twelve months yet Face felt this was the first time he’d noticed. The horror of war had stopped him from appreciating the stunning place they were in.

Murdock’s voice briefly crackled over the head sets as he spoke to the MACV men they were visiting first.

Hannibal looked at Face with confusion when the Lieutenant retrieved several large boxes of laundry soap flakes. Face purposely ignored his CO while Rachel and Maureen enthusiastically opened the boxes, he wanted it to be a surprise for Hannibal, too.

Over the crew headsets Murdock sang an almost perfect rendition of Bing Crosby’s ‘It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.’ The pilot had acquired a Santa hat which he’d rammed over his flight helmet. The women soon harmonised the song with him. As the bird dropped towards the first outpost even BA reluctantly joined in, the radio filled with the crew and passengers singing of festive cheer.

Face peered out the open side and down at the dirty, tired soldiers waiting on the LZ. He gave the women a wink before grabbing two large handfuls of soap flakes and launching them out the side. Rachel and Maureen copied him.

He watched with satisfaction as they made it ‘snow’ on the bemused men staring up at them. Ginger and Poison quickly caught on and snagged another box of soap and added to the cascading ‘snowflakes’.

Murdock must have looked back to see what was going on. His song smoothly changed to Frank Sinatra's ‘White Christmas’, his peter pilot, Bazza and Hannibal laughing loudly at the spectacle.

By the time Murdock landed and shut his bird down, all the ‘snow’ had been whipped up and dissipated by the powerful rotor blades. Face could see the men at the remote outpost all had glistening eyes and he didn’t think it was because of soap flakes getting in them.

“Merry Christmas, boys,” Hannibal chuckled, jumping out the bird clasping a stack of foil wrapped packs containing hot turkey and pumpkin pie.

Rachel and Maureen were soon distributing Red Cross care parcels, mail and Christmas goodies, but most of all Face saw the soldiers light up being in the presence of the young American girls. The donut dollies really were a touch of home, representing the wives, sisters, mothers and girlfriends waiting for the men thousands of miles away.

After an all too short fifteen minutes, the team and crew climbed back in the chopper. They hung out the side waving and loudly singing ‘Jingle Bells’ bidding their new friends goodbye. 

The festive scene was repeated at each isolated firebase and outpost they visited. Face felt completely caught up and never stopped grinning. After the images of Hell he’d had burned into his memory, it was breathtaking to have this new memory being created. Today was the day they made it snow in ‘Nam. Today they gave the troops a white Christmas.

* * *

_ SRAO: Supplemental Recreation Activities Overseas. _

_ MACV: Military Assistance Command, Vietnam.  _

_ Macvee: the flight missions to support the MACV ground teams. _

_ Peter pilot: copilot. _


	4. The Hospital

**The Hospital**

Face easily identified the hospital as the chopper banked around. The simple wooden structure had a white roof to try and reflect some of the sun’s relentless rays away from the patients inside. A large red H was painted across the top, in an effort to stop an aerial attack on the place of healing.

The roaring thud of the rotor blades had drawn some of the staff out of the building. They ran towards the chopper, carrying collapsible stretchers as the bird lowered into a yard beside the hospital.

Murdock shot through the cargo hold and jumped out before the skids had touched down, his long legs sprinting past the approaching medical staff. Face laughed, assuming his buddy had left Bazza the job of actually landing. He hopped out and went to chase after Murdock, but a firm grip on his arm stopped him. A tall, heavily bearded man wearing a crumpled lab coat looked at him with a note of panic.

“How many injured?” the bearded man asked urgently.

Face watched Murdock disappearing into the hospital before smiling at the man grasping his arm. “None.” He felt the grip soften slightly. “The US Army are bringing you some Christmas presents.” The man released him. “Lieutenant Templeton Peck,” Face said, offering his hand.

“Doctor Henry Ramsey,” the doc replied with an Australian accent, shaking Face’s hand. By now, Hannibal and the others had joined the group standing by the chopper as the blades slowed.

BA set one of the large crates down. “For the hospital,” he said scowling then he gave the doctor a small smile.

Two nurses dived into the crate, pulling out packs of sterile syringes and bags of saline. Based on the excited noises they were making Face took it they were pleased with the donations.

“Merry Christmas, from Phu Bai FOB.” Hannibal passed the ammo can over to the confused looking doctor.

Doc Ramsey opened the lid and gasped, his fingers raking through his beard in disbelief. He showed the contents to the nearest nurse who promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around Hannibal’s neck.

Hannibal chuckled while patting the excited nurse’s back. “We’ve got lots more for you.” He looked at Face for some help as the sobbing woman still hung off him.

“Doc, we’ve got medical supplies, a few crates of food and some gifts from the troops. Where would you like them?” Face asked the Australian man. Despite the non-verbal cues, he wasn’t about to deal with the nurse. Hannibal was perfectly capable of looking after the virtually hysterical woman. Instead he just smirked at his CO.

“Strewth, all for us?” The doc continued rubbing his beard looking like he thought he was dreaming and was expecting to wake up at any minute.

Face nodded, the rest of the crew were carrying more crates over.

Rachel obviously knew what to do and took charge. She spoke to a small orderly, then directed Bazza, Ginger and Poison into the hospital, all ladened with donations. Maureen gently pulled the nurse away from Hannibal and followed. Face chuckled at the expression of relief Hannibal gave Maureen.

“W-why? H-how?” the doctor stuttered, still staring at Face.

“We couldn’t visit on Christmas Day without gifts,” Hannibal said pulling a cigar from his fatigues.

Face seamlessly passed his zippo over while smiling at the dumbstruck doctor. “I understand you have a young Montagnard woman and her baby here?” he asked soothingly. He had a priority - and that was to find Binh - he’d explain the details about the donations once he knew the truth.

“Um- yes- um- our Jane Doe. Do you know her?” Doc Ramsey scrapped the heel of his hand over his beard. “She hasn’t said a word since she arrived here.”

Face didn’t answer the doc, as he saw Murdock walking out of the hospital. Cradled in the pilot’s arm’s was a small bundle. Tears streamed unashamedly down the pilot’s face while he cooed to the swaddled baby. Shuffling behind him, with her head down, was Laken.

Face couldn’t breath, it was really her. Blinking rapidly he felt his own eyes sting then hot wet streaks tracking over his cheeks. It was really her. Glancing over, he watched BA turn away with his back to Face and the bulky man raised a hand to wipe across his eyes. Hannibal was beaming, and though Face wasn’t sure through the fog of cigar smoke, the older man’s eyes appeared to be glistening. Self consciously, Face wiped his own tears away. He couldn’t believe it, it was really her, they’d fucking found Binh.

The doctor politely stepped back.

Face’s heart lurched seeing Laken so broken. He moved away from the team huddled around Murdock and the baby, and stood in front of Laken, crouching to be closer to her height. “Laken, we’re here,” he assured quietly, gently soothing her arm.

Slowly the young woman met his eyes. He waited, softly running his hand against her arm. Bit by bit her vacant expression changed, until a spark of recognition flared. Suddenly Laken collapsed into Face, who wrapped his arms protectively around her as she sobbed into his chest. “Mister Faceman, you came. You came,” she cried in hoarse, heavily accented English.

He lightly kissed the top of her matted black hair, his own tears dripping on to her and he didn’t give a damn who saw. Correct protocol could go to Hell, they’d found her. His shirt grew damp where her face was pressed hard against him.

“Yes, we’re here now,” he gulped, his own voice wavering with raw emotion. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry, Laken.” The guilt at not being there to save her and Binh completely consuming him.

Not wanting to let her go, Face just held Laken and gradually her sobs slowed as he regained his own self control. He could feel her trembling violently so he pulled her tighter into his warm embrace, frightened if he let go she’d disappear. He wished he could have stopped her family suffering from the horror they had, but grateful beyond words her and Binh were alive.

Still holding Laken tightly, he looked up at the clear blue sky. “Thank you,” he mouthed silently to a higher being. “Thank you.”

Once his composure returned, his mind began doing somersaults, flooded by extreme relief combined with intense embarrassment from his public display of emotions. But he felt overwhelmingly happy. Happier than he had been for days - no weeks, fucking Hell, he felt happier than he had been for months. This truly was a Christmas miracle. And he, Templeton Peck, had witnessed it.

Laken calmed and disentangled herself from his arms, heading over to hug the rest of the team. Murdock gently passed the precious Binh back to her mom. BA sniffed loudly, giving Laken the biggest smile, while Hannibal chuckled leaning over the baby in her arms.

“Would you like a tour of the hospital?” Doc Ramsey asked warmly, his own eyes misted by the power of the moment.

“We’d like that very much,” Hannibal replied, following the Aussie doc into the hospital.

Face grinned at Murdock and his buddy beamed back. Yep, this was the best Christmas ever. The two men flanked Laken and Binh with BA half a step behind, none of them wanted to let their Christmas miracle out of their sight.

“The hospital is staffed mainly with British, American and Australian volunteers from Project Concern,” Doc Ramsey was explaining to Hannibal. “We demonstrate God’s love by treating all civilians while remaining neutral.”

Face half listened to the conversation as he admired the numerous homemade decorations adorning the wards in the hospital. Each patient was surrounded by family members. Face wasn’t surprised, due to low staff numbers in the smaller hospitals a lot of nursing needed to be performed by friends and family. Looking at the brightly colored paper chains Face realized it was probably the families who’d made them.

“We also train medical technicians to deliver care back in their villages,” Ramsey continued.

“The MACV program does much the same,” Hannibal replied.

“No, you don’t!” The doctor’s sharp tone snapped Face’s attention away from smiling at a shy little girl grinning at him. “You’re building relationships to unearth informants.” Ramsey tugged at his beard in clear frustration. “Once you’ve got what you want you hand anyone named over to the interrogators...and they’re never heard from again.”

By the tensing of Hannibal’s shoulders, Face knew his CO had been riled.

“Do you know what the VC did to her village?” Hannibal growled, catching Face’s eye as he glanced behind him at Laken. “They need stopping.”

Ramsey turned to look squarely at Hannibal. “Last week two of my nurses and a trainee medical assistant got their jeep stuck returning from one of the villages.” He paused to look each man firmly in the eye. “A Viet Cong foot patrol happened upon them.”

Face caught his breath not wanting to hear what happened next. He could virtually feel Murdock bristle on the other side of Laken. BA emitted a barely audible growl.

“The men dragged the jeep out and sent the medical team on their way,” Ramsey continued with a sigh. “Please don’t forget humanity in this war. Once you do, all hope is lost.”

Guiltily, Face looked at his feet, the stark reminder of the reality around them affecting him more than he expected. The moment of tension was broken by Maureen and Rachel approaching with giant smiles. In Rachel’s arms was a tiny baby, which she carefully passed over to an usually flustered looking Hannibal.

His CO quickly regained his composure and chuckled. “That’s fast going. I haven’t even asked for your hand and we’ve already got a child.”

Rachel rolled her eyes at him, obviously used to the subtle and not so subtle innuendos of troops. “This little boy was born just after midnight today. He’s a real Christmas baby.”

Watching the colonel’s expression soften as he smiled at the baby, Face marveled at the innocence and hope in that tiny new human nestled in Hannibal’s arms. Would this child grow up in peace, or would this tiny life be snuffed out by a war that had already claimed thousands of Vietnamese and Americans? Would the deaths of people like Lieutenant Seadal and his unit ensure the new born baby a life of peace and freedom, or had they died in vain?

Face swallowed uncomfortably, before looking at Laken and Binh. The reason he continued to fight...the reason they all continued to fight, was to ensure these babies had a future.

The doctor invited them to stay for supper, but Murdock politely explained he needed to leave soon as he didn’t want to fly back in the dark. Face knew it was just an excuse, none of them would’ve taken him up on the generous offer, these people barely had enough to feed themselves without sharing their supplies with the team.

Face needed to do one more thing before they left. By flattering one of the British nurses he was shown into a doctor’s office. He made a couple of quick phone calls then scribbled a note before placing it in an envelope along with some money.

Everyone was by the chopper when Face emerged from the hospital. Laken, now smiling, stood with Doctor Ramsey who was holding Binh. She hugged each person as they climbed into the Huey. Face gave her the envelope and she looked at him confused.

“How to contact me and people who can help,” he explained.

She smiled nodding, but clearly not understanding him.

“Murdock, can I have a hand?”

Grinning, Murdock hopped back out of the bird and quickly translated for Face. Laken’s eyes filled with tears as she gave both men another heartfelt hug.

“Thank you, Mister Faceman. Thank you, Mister Murdock,” she replied.

“I wish you peace little one,” Murdock murmured, gently kissing Binh’s forehead before repeating the gesture with Laken.

The flight back to Phu Bai was totally silent. Each man and woman thinking about their magical experience in the middle of a bloody conflict. Together they had felt the love and peace. Together they had shared Christmas. Face knew none of them would ever forget that special day of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on the journey, your feedback means a lot as this story feels special due to being based on a pilot's real account. I'll publish a short epilogue on New Year's Day but to read the true story google 'The day it snowed in Vietnam 1969'. If you read it I hope you can see why I just saw it as something the team would do.
> 
> Massive thank you to ILIWAPCT and Igenlode Wordsmith for their amazing editing and betaing skills making this story possible.


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**November 11th 1993**

In his hand Face clutched a faded photo. It was now over twenty years old and looking worse for wear, but you could still clearly see him and Murdock standing with their arms around Rachel and Maureen by the Huey.

Today he was surrounded by smiling donut dollies helping the visitors at the dedication of the Vietnam Women's Memorial. Somewhere in the crowd, he knew Hannibal and the others were searching, too.

Seeing a lady in a donut dolly pale blue dress not engaged in a conversation, Face straightened the black tie of his own uniform. “Excuse me, Ma’am.” He waited for her to turn to look at him then delivered a gracious smile at her. “I know it’s a long shot, but do you recognize either of these women?” He handed the photo over.

“Oh my! That’s my sister Rachel,” the lady said with her hand over her mouth. “That’s you isn't it?” She pointed at the picture of Face in his fatigues having just turned twenty.

He nodded, smiling. “Is she here? I’d really like to see her again.”

“Yes, yes, come this way.”

Face eagerly followed the donut dolly. As soon as Rachel saw him she rushed over and threw her arms around him. He reciprocated with his own embrace.

“Lieutenant Peck, Templeton, I can't believe you’re here,” Rachel said when she finally let him go. “What about the others?”

“The whole team are here, we wouldn’t miss today for anything,” Face replied, taking his green beret off and looking at her properly. “You still look beautiful.” The years really had been kind to the woman he thought about every Christmas.

Rachel blushed, dropping her gaze. “I’ve never forgotten that Christmas. I must tell the story a hundred times every year. The day I spent with the infamous A-Team.” She laughed with a teasing head shake. “And you all made the story more interesting each year, but surviving a firing squad...I don’t think even my family believed that part.”

“Yeah, one day I’ll have to write a book,” he chuckled, running his hand through his hair. The media had sure made a big deal about the team’s adventures since Vietnam, not that he minded now. Distracted, he scanned for the other men, they’d all want to see Rachel.

“Do you know what happened to Laken and Binh? I think about them so often,” she asked, bringing his focus back to her.

Face’s grin grew. “We got them out. Laken is in LA working at a restaurant the team co-owns.”

Rachel caught his hand with an excited gasp.

“Binh is in med school, training to be a Doctor,” he continued, proudly.

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, and thank you for my most memorable Christmas.” She stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed his cheek while squeezing his hand tightly. “How about you? I know you’ve been pardoned but how are you?”

Face turned to look over his shoulder. He spotted Hannibal and Murdock approaching in the distance, side by side, both grinning with BA scowling a step behind. Then he smiled at a small pretty woman with her arm around a young boy. She beamed back while boy’s bright inquisitive blue eyes shone from his angelic face.

Face’s heart skipped a beat the way it always did when he saw them, he hoped he’d never get used to it, the perfection that made his life complete. They were the two most important people in his world and they gave him the peace he’d craved all those years ago.

Leading Rachel gently by the hand, Face moved towards them. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet my wife and son.”

**Fin**


End file.
